Our mouths opened and our tongues danced a slow waltz.

His nicotine-covered tongue was dancing in the gaping hole of his mouth.

As their tongues plunged and danced, he pulled her tight against him.

His tongue danced over his lips and teeth: fangs, a vampire.

If anyone told me that tongues of fire danced upon his shoulders as he spoke, I would believe it.

As his tongue danced over hers, she gave a quick sigh that caught in the middle.

As their tongues danced and sparred, she arched against him.

She countered each step as their tongues danced and dueled.

His tongue danced over hers, bringing her all those dark and dusky male flavors.

A moment later, a small tongue of flame danced forth atop the pile.